


Scarred

by SimplexityJane



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it comic canon, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplexityJane/pseuds/SimplexityJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out getting shot in the gut tends to leave a scar. Who knew?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarred

There’s a scar on the left side of Steve’s stomach. It’s small, and it doesn’t feel like anything but skin, barely discolored.

Jane asks about it, if it’s a birthmark, and presses her mouth to it. He (gently) steers her away.

“Scar, actually,” he says, and that makes her even more… excited, but it sort of ruins it for Steve. At least it’s a one night stand, and nothing more serious. If it were, they would have real problems.

(Steve is physically twenty-eight. He also enjoys sex. If he had had this body his whole life, he probably would have had a lot more. As it is, it’s a little hard to find permanent partners when you’ve been hopping from country to country chasing your erstwhile best friend/brother/whatever, and having your new best friend/scratch that _douchebag jerkface_ quoting references you don’t understand at you.)

The point is, he doesn’t get scars any more.

Sure, his knuckles are still crisscrossed with them, and he can now pinpoint exactly where he got each one thanks to his eidetic memory. He has scars on his knees and on his elbows, and one on his chest from an excited dog.

He doesn’t have scars from the Battle of New York, though, or any other battles, not even cuts on his palms from the warped metal on the train in 1944. This is his first, and it’s not even ugly. It’s three inches from his belly button, should have killed him, and most people wouldn’t even notice it.

Kylie doesn’t. Neither do Alexandra or Tomas.

“So, should I be worried?” Sam asks one day, and Steve gives him a look. “I mean, you seem a little obsessed with that scar. I could show you some of mine—I have this one from when I got my appendix out when I was fourteen--”

Steve hits him, but it’s soft, and Sam smiles even when Steve has him in a headlock.

* * *

Steve has a scar on his stomach, just inches away from an artery. Natasha knows it’s there like she knows everything else, like she knows her memory is incomplete and never coming back, like she knows she couldn’t have been born in 1984 but has to say she was, because physically, that's closest to her age. Like she knows that the man in the shadows knows her, even if she doesn’t know him as anyone other than the man who killed her client.

“Natalia,” he says as she drops in beside him. Steve doesn’t see either of them, too caught up drawing the giant tower in front of him. It’s the tallest building in the world.

He’s been drawing more often, following the Winter Soldier around the world.

“What should I call you?” she asks, and he doesn’t flinch. “If you expected me to remember you, you don’t remember as much from the Red Room as you think.”

He smiles, then purses his lips.

“James. There are words, if you wanted to remember,” he says, and she shakes her head. Her head’s been screwed with enough, she thinks. Better that she doesn’t know why his eyes are steady on her, and be better for it. “I didn’t think so. Is he--” His voice cracks. Interesting. “Is he okay?”

Natasha doesn’t lie anymore.

“He misses you. Or the person he thinks you are. He has a scar, here.” She touches his stomach, right where the scar is on Steve’s. “He knows you saved his life. If you aren’t the person he needs, I'll kill you.”

His grin is grim.

“I trained you, Natalia,” he says, which is news to her. “I don’t think you can. Do you have a scar?”

Funny. He sounds almost as concerned about her as he was about Steve.

“I have a lot of scars.” She smirks. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

* * *

 Steve’s newest scar is on his stomach. It should have killed him. It should have given him sepsis, if it hadn’t sent him into shock. It should have festered, should have destroyed him from the inside out. Would have, if he were any other man.

It’s tiny. James thought it would be bigger. He presses his thumb over it and it disappears. Presto changeo, Abracadabra.

“Nope,” Steve says, and presses him into the mattress. He’s the only person who could do that, really, except perhaps Natalia, and _that’s_ not happening. He stares up at Steve, who grins down at him and presses his hand to James’ face. “We are not doing that. I should point out some scars I gave _you_ instead, actually.”

His nose wrinkles, and Steve kisses it. Miles and miles of skin press against his, and it doesn’t make him panic like it would have months ago. It’s nice, and he arches into it ( _not_ like a cat, any comparisons to felines should be left far, far away).

“Hey guys did you get the Thai—oh my god!” Sam shouts, backing away. “Dammit, Nick won the pool.”

“Yes, it seems so,” Jarvis, the AI Tony Stark designed because he didn’t have enough friends, says. Steve meets James’ eyes.

“There was a pool?” he asks, dangerously mild. Sam, who is pretty intelligent for a guy who throws himself off buildings with only a glider to keep him safe, runs.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. I just got obsessed with the idea that Steve doesn't usually scar, but almost died, so now he has a tiny little scar on his stomach. Everyone's a little obsessed with it, including Steve.


End file.
